The Day Cycle
by ragnhild-potter
Summary: He caught himself wishing for the impossible, desperately hoping that things could, somehow, be different...
1. In The Morning

**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Chapter One: _In The Morning_**

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**Rating:** PG

**Summary:** He caught himself wishing for the impossible, desperately hoping that things could, somehow, be different...  
Two boys harbour guilty secrets in the Gryffindor dorm.

**Author's notes:** This fic is based on Harry and Ron's characters as I saw them pre-OotP.

* * *

It was early morning, and the room was quiet. The sound of steady breathing came from the boys sleeping in four of the beds as Harry tiptoed across the floor and entered the bathroom. Getting into the shower, he quickly finger-combed his tangled hair and reached for the bottle of shampoo. Ten minutes later, he heard the others stirring next door, and got out. Reaching for his towel, he took a few deep breaths. The show was about to begin. Carefully, he wound the towel snugly around his waist, tensing his stomach muscles ever so slightly. Tensely, he ran his fingers through his hair, trying to make it lie flat - _a lost cause, really_, he thought wryly. He pulled his shoulders back. _Grace_, he reminded himself. _Be graceful_.   
  
Harry paused briefly in front of the bathroom door, and then entered the dormitory affecting a casual attitude that belied his nervousness. With carefully controlled strides, and acutely aware of his every movement, he crossed the floor to his bed and got out his clothes. Watching out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed that Ron was awake, but hadn't yet got out of bed - he was always the last to get up these days. The others had headed for the showers. Watching Ron, Harry's heart beat just a little faster. _Steady_, he told himself. _He's not even looking in your direction_. He pulled on his shirt and buttoned it up slowly. _Poise_, he thought. The shirt was easy enough, but he defied anyone to look graceful while pulling on a pair of boxers. Trousers, though - buttoning trousers could be done sensually. Slowly, carefully slipping the buttons through the buttonholes, one at a time... Harry was supremely unhurried and got dressed with a certain languidness of movement. With a deceptively casual flourish, he settled his robes around his shoulders and crossed to the door. Ron still hadn't got out of bed. "I'll see you at breakfast, I suppose, sleepyhead," Harry said, flashed him a teasing grin, and left the dormitory. Once out of sight, he leaned against the wall, letting the tension drain away. _He never even looked_, he thought dejectedly. _He never does, and he never will_.   
  
Harry spent his nights dreaming that, someday, somehow, Ron would look up and _notice_ him. Every morning was the same. Knowing it was hopeless, Harry nevertheless continued his fruitless attempts at seduction. _It's hopeless, it's pointless, he'll never notice..._ And yet, despite himself, Harry caught himself wishing for the impossible, desperately hoping that things could, somehow, be different.

* * *

As Harry disappeared from sight, Ron let out the breath he'd been holding. _It's wrong of me_, he told himself yet again. _He's my friend, he'd be horrified if he knew, I shouldn't be doing this_. But he couldn't help himself. Every morning, he would linger in bed, waiting. Let the others think it was because he wanted to have the bathroom for himself - he certainly couldn't tell them how he wanted, _needed_ to watch Harry. There was something entrancing about Harry in the morning - Ron didn't think Harry knew how ... sensual ... his morning routine was. It was like he was off in a world of his own, completely unaware of his surroundings. Everything he did, he did slowly, carefully, precisely. His movements were almost dancelike, unaffected and natural. Graceful. _Seductive_, he thought, and was immediately swamped with guilt. _He's my friend_, he thought again. _If he knew how I felt... He'd never be comfortable around me again_. And those ten minutes of stolen pleasure watching Harry get dressed in the morning would be lost to him. _No_, he thought, _I can never tell him. He can never know_. And so Ron continued to watch Harry in the mornings, carefully, surreptiously stealing glances from under lowered lashes, drinking in every moment and re-living them in those precious moments of solitude after Harry left and before the others finished their showers. _He must never know..._ And yet, despite himself, Ron caught himself wishing for the impossible, desperately hoping that things could, somehow, be different.


	2. A Summer Aftenoon

**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Chapter Two: _A Summer Afternoon_**

**Rating:** PG-13

**Summary:** Hermione is at The Burrough. She muses on the unresolved situation between Harry and Ron, when her train of thought is interrupted...

**Author's notes:** Please note that this fic contains very mild implications of femmeslash. If this offends you, please find something else to read.

This fic contains spoilers for Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, as it takes place after fifth year.

Thanks go to Icarus, whose insightful comments prompted the writing of this fic.

* * *

She was going to have to talk to Ron.

She realised that after some thinking. The plan had been to talk to Harry: he seemed to be trying already, he just needed encouragement and support, and to be told what he couldn't see for himself. Yes, she mused, if she'd talked to Harry when the thought had first occurred to her, that might have been enough for him to sort it all out by himself. It probably would have been, judging by his behaviour back then. But then, what with Sirius dying and everything that had happened last year, she'd had to scrap that plan. Harry had changed as the situation had changed. His wants or needs hadn't changed, though, unless they had become stronger and more desperate - the difference was that Harry was no longer actively pursuing them in any degree, and showed no inclination to do so. He was closing himself off from the teachers, the students, her and Ron, _everyone_. She wasn't the right person to talk to him about it now, though, she thought. Besides, she'd had a hard time just trying to find him, let alone talking with him, those last few days of school... No, she couldn't expect Harry to do anything about the situation now - but something had to be done. Things couldn't stay as they were.

Before, she'd watched them both with mixed amusement, irritation and sadness - couldn't they see that what they wanted was right there in front of them? Couldn't they just _say_ it?

_It has to be harder for them, being boys_, she thought soberly. _Not like for us..._

Girls had it easier, she reflected. Girls hugged each other; girls kissed each other hello and goodbye; girls could say_ I love you, sweetheart _and smile and nobody thought anything was wrong about it. Girls could stroke each other's hair, could cry on each other's shoulders, could tell each other_ Oh, Ginny, you look wonderful in that top_, could say_ I love that perfume, Ginny darling, where did you get it?_, could walk down corridors hand in hand, could sneak off together without any scathing comments echoing after them, could tell each other how much _I love you_.

Girls _could_ - and, unlike boys, they weren't _afraid_ to - hug each other and tell each other how much they cared.

Hermione shook her head - none of this was helping. She already knew what she had to do. Ron was afraid, ashamed and scared, but she knew he cared for _- loved -_ Harry, and she knew that if he was to be persuaded into taking action, it would have to be she who guided him. He would have to be coaxed into accepting the situation, and into confiding in her. And he would _have_ to be made to understand exactly what Harry was doing and why. She remembered Ron's joking suggestion that she write a book explaining the meaning of the things girls do, but she rather thought she'd have to give him a course in the _male_ psyche before stepping back and allowing him to - hopefully - sort out the rest by himself.

She'd simply have to talk to Ron. She was just about to get up from the comfortable chair she'd been sitting in to go and find him when there was a knock on the door, and Ginny slipped inside the room, smiling at her.

"Mum says dinner's ready in twenty minutes," Ginny told her, winding a strand of hair around a delicate finger, still smiling at Hermione. "She asked Ron to come and tell you, but I said I'd do it - I thought we could get ready together."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "I should think twenty minutes is more time than we need to get ready for dinner," she said lightly.

Ginny's smile widened, her eyes sparkling. Hermione swallowed.

Oh, hell - she'd talk to Ron later. There were several weeks left of the summer, after all, and right now there were other things to do,_ like whispering sweet nothings into that beautiful, glossy red hair and -_ oh, yes, that talk was definitely going to have to wait, Hermione decided as she opened her arms in invitation.


	3. And Night Settled In

**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Chapter Three: _And Night Settled In_**

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**Rating:** PG-13

**Summary:** Harry's been isolating himself. Ron decides enough is enough - it's time to do something about it...

**Author's notes:** This concludes the Day cycle. Please do leave a review and tell me what you think!

* * *

The sky was darkening at a rapid pace, swirls of stormy grey and dark blue mixing as the rain whipped across the sky in ropy tendrils. Harry paced back and forth under a large tree at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, his hair and robes soaked, large drops of water sticking to his glasses, which were gradually steaming up from his body heat. The need to be alone kept getting stronger. Since Sirius had... Since last summer, he'd felt isolated somehow, out of contact with those around him. He couldn't stand the loneliness of crowds, of company - far better to be on his own. That way, his isolation was by choice, and that was something. At least that was what he told himself.

Besides, being around his friends hurt. That seemed to be the only thing he _could_ feel these days - pain and hurt and loneliness. Just sitting next to Hermione at lunch was an ordeal. Whereas before he'd felt warmth and friendship, now those feelings seemed to have mutated. Something had twisted what was there into fear and pain - not _of_ his friends, but _for_ them, and for himself. Everyone he loved got hurt. Hermione and oh, God, _Ron_... Should he lose them, too - he couldn't bear it. He could prevent it, and he would. If keeping away from them would keep them safe...

A hand gripped his shoulder.

"Harry." Ron's voice, Ron's hand. Harry tensed.

"Harry, you have to stop this. You can't keep hiding from us."

"I'm not hiding." It wasn't true, and they both knew it.

"I know it hurts, Harry, but we want to help you - don't keep doing this, don't keep avoiding us!"

"I don't _want_ you to help me!" Harry snapped. Ah, yes - anger was good. Well, not exactly good, but it was cathartic to vent his feelings, and being consumed by anger was better than drowning in pain. "I haven't asked for your 'help'! And you shouldn't _want_ me to stop avoiding you!"

"And why is that?" Ron queried in a voice of forced calm. Harry wanted to scream. What was _wrong_ with him, didn't he understand _anything_?

"Because you'll get _hurt_, you idiot!"

"We'll get hurt because we care about you, is that it?" Ron sounded like he was getting angry. As if _he_ had anything to be angry about!

"Yes!"

"Well, we're not going to stop caring about you just because you've decided you want us to stay away and be 'safe', Harry. It doesn't work like that."

"Oh, it doesn't?" Harry spat.

"No, it doesn't!" came Ron's heated reply. "The people who love you, they - we don't - I don't _care_ about the danger, Harry, I don't _care_ if you want to keep us all safe, that does _not _entitle you to shut me out, and _I won't let you_!"

Harry stood motionless. Had Ron just said - did he mean -?

"Don't shut me out, Harry," Ron whispered, suddenly broken-voiced, pleading. "Please... Harry, please let me in!"

Harry turned slowly, facing Ron, looking up at him. His blue eyes were filled with pain and - _something else_ - but that wasn't possible! Hope flared within Harry momentarily before his gut clenched and pain surged through him: it _wasn't_ possible. He started to turn away, but Ron was quicker as he leaned forward and briefly pressed his lips against Harry's.

Harry froze.

"Don't shut me out, Harry. I can't bear it!"

Slowly, tentatively, Ron raised his hand to Harry's face and cupped his cheek, forcing Harry to look at him.

Harry saw the desperate hope and fear in Ron's eyes, and realised that he had the power to stop pain, to take it away - that he didn't always have to be the one who caused it. His stomach gave a lurch as he committed to taking a leap of faith.

Not breaking eye contact, he raised his own hand to Ron's face. Slowly, ever so slowly, he leaned in and heard Ron's gasp before he kissed him, gently and carefully, impossibly softly - and felt warm tears running down his face, flowing freely at last.

He could feel all his pain and hurt searing through him like fire, but it was a good, clean pain, like the drawing of poison from a wound, healing him, loosening the tight knot in his chest, lightening the burden on his shoulders.

And then Ron was kissing him back, carefully, tenderly, drawing away and coming back again, covering his face in light butterfly kisses and pulling him close...

"Don't ever shut me out again, Harry. Never again!" he whispered softly into Harry's ear. The feel of Ron's hot breath against his face, Ron's strong arms around him, Ron's soft lips against him... Another swift kiss almost sent Harry to his knees.

"Never again," he whispered back. "I promise."

He pulled away slightly, wanting to look at Ron. Those wonderfully blue eyes were shining, hope and love flaring brightly, pain washed away. Harry felt a jolt of electricity running through his body as their eyes met, and then he was caught against Ron, their mouths crushed together in a bruising kiss, claiming, promising, giving, sharing as the rain whipped around them and night settled in.


End file.
